


some sunny day

by smologan



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, MCD is only temporary, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, basically im sad so you should be too, crying bc its an au and not canon, listen i just wanted knight!puffy is that so wrong, no happy ending, prison guard sapnap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smologan/pseuds/smologan
Summary: Karl thought things were getting better when he began taking notes.--Journeys through time and in between begin to take their toll, and Karl searches for answers that seem harder to find.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51





	some sunny day

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "We'll Meet Again" by Vera Lynn.  
> Please remember to read tags before continuing -- the MCD is temporary, but still there.  
> Written before The Haunted Mansion.

Karl thought things were getting better when he began taking notes.

He had returned from his most recent venture with the new thought of recording his thoughts in a diary. Things had started to slip from his mind faster and faster the more he traveled, but his work was too important to stop. So writing everything down would have to suffice. He grabbed a book and quill, scribbling down everything he had learned, everything he thought, everything he felt. Closing it with the title _Diary #1_ , Karl thought he had found a temporary solution to the memory issue. 

And then he opened the chest with a dozen other books titled _Diary #1_. 

Karl flipped through the rest, finding himself saying the same words over and over again. _Each time I travel I remember less and less. I really need to start writing these as soon as I come back to the present day… I need to keep this quiet. I can't tell anyone what happens or how I know these stories… Don't forget who you are._

Panic raced through his entire body as the words echoed in his head. The pages and pages filled with the same words, written as if it was the first time they had been etched. His chest tightened as the breath moved in and out of his lungs in quicker, shallower bursts. Every part of his body numb and frozen as the fear set in. His knees crumbled beneath him as he began to heave, searching for the breath to come back to him. Tears welling in his eyes as he fought the lightheadedness that flooded his brain. He opened his mouth, searching for oxygen only to find that he could do nothing but gasp, repeatedly getting louder and louder and more desperate as he searched for air. 

He fell all the way to the floor, rolling onto his back, hoping for some sort of grounding. _This was real. The cold beneath him was real. The fabric against his skin was real._ _The ceiling above him was real. This was real. This was real._

Things were not getting better now that Karl was taking notes.

Maybe he _did_ need to tell someone. 

He got the chance the next day, hands wringing the oversized sleeves of his multi-colored hoodie as he sat silently overlooking the memorial to L’manburg below him while his fiancé tried to tell a funny story. Sapnap never failed to cheer him up before – just being near him filled Karl with warmth and joy. But in this moment, his mind was a million miles away, a million years away.

Of course Sapnap noticed when Karl wasn’t animated, swinging his arms, or giggling at some stupid thing Sapnap did just to get a rise out of his lover. He reached across the short distance and took a hold of Karl’s hand, pulling it away from the now mangled sleeve. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

Karl whipped his head toward Sapnap, almost like he had forgotten that he was even with someone. He had. 

He giggled at his own silliness at being trapped in his head, “Sorry, sorry. I’m listening.”

“Nah, you’re not. Mind telling me what’s up?” Sapnap asked, raising an eyebrow and giving Karl a reassuring crooked smile. 

“Sap… It’s really weird...I mean I’m not sure if I even completely understand it, you know? And I don’t know exactly what’ll happen if I do tell you because… I don’t know, Sap. I just don’t.” 

Sapnap’s reassuring grin slowly dropped, realizing that this wasn’t just Karl waking up in a funk or being irritated by something small. This was something that seriously shook him. And it worried Sapnap. 

“Hey, babe, you know we’re kinda, heh, we’re kinda getting married… like… soon. I mean, what I mean is that you can tell me anything, Jacobs.” The heat of Sapnap’s thumb brushing against Karl’s hand burned him in the most comforting way. It lured him into that safe space he felt whenever they were together. 

So Karl told him. With stilted words and anxious pauses, he told him. Told him of how he found the portal the first time, how he found the Town-- watching them tear each other apart, suspicion and deceit enveloping them all, how he began searching for answers in the future, discovering Mizu and the pain of _dying_ there. So he had to keep traveling. 

He told him of the Inbetween. The pristine, ethereal castle that seemed to control his travels, that seemed to hold all the answers about why he was chosen and why he kept getting thrown to the whims of time. He told him of the books with their hidden knowledge that urged him to explore, to search out the reasoning behind it all. 

He also told Sapnap about the diaries. About his mind slowly slipping away from him, getting lost to time like the stories he visited. About how the Inbetween swore there was a way to fix this, but he fell away more and more. About how sometimes when he came back he forgot where he was or whether he was in the real timeline, whether he was real. 

And Sapnap listened. He didn’t interrupt Karl. He let him tell him everything. He let him take the breaks he needed, explain the intricacies, recount the tales. Tried to wrap his mind around the information being laid at his feet, to process how this changed _everything_.

When Karl finished, Sapnap wrapped his arms around his fiancé, pulling his body close to his own. “So,” he started, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as the two stared out at the valley below them, “what do you need from me?”

“I...Really, Sapnap, I don’t know. I just-- I couldn’t keep this to myself any more. I don’t want myself to fall away before I can find out how to stop this. How to stop all of this,” Karl nodded his head to the side to indicate the blood vines, softly glowing, expanding over the entirety of the world until it would be the only thing left. 

“Well,” Sapnap exhaled softly from his mouth. “Telling me is a good start, I suppose.” He tried to laugh, but the sound felt odd to his ears. “What if I took notes? You know, when you come back? Instead of your diaries, yeah? I could do that for you.”

Karl pulled himself from Sapnap’s arms to sit up on his own, pulling his knees to his chest again. “I don’t know, Sapnap. It’s not like I get to choose when I travel. I don’t get to choose when I come back, either.”

“I mean, I can wait for you...wherever you go...You know that isn’t a problem, Karl. I can wait until you get back.”

“But...what about the Vault? You have a duty there, too, Sapnap.”

Sapnap turned his head, searching out the massive blackstone structure in the distance, every bit as large and imposing from afar as it was up close. “I’ll think of something, Jacobs. I mean, uh, it’s not like Dream’s going anywhere. And, if anything goes wrong, there’s the alarm, yeah? Let me worry about you, babe.” 

Karl pondered the resolution laid before him. What could the consequences be if the Inbetween found out Karl had shared the secret it had so adamantly persuaded him to keep close to his chest, even going so far as to try to have him move his library? Karl worried his lower lip with his teeth, twisting his sleeves more and more – they were thoroughly ruined at this point, tugged to the point where the stretched fabric couldn’t retain its shape. 

“Yeah,” Karl consented, still unsure of what this could trigger. He knew that he was being selfish, telling Sapnap, accepting his help. But, how could he fix things if he forgot himself? He needed an anchor to remind him. Sapnap could be that anchor. 

The Inbetween promised to teach him how to keep his memories if he kept exploring. But until then, Sapnap could be the link he needed. 

\--

It was another week before Karl was thrust into a body, standing at the steps to a manor unlike any he had seen before. It was an impressive structure, beautifully tamed gardens, a fountain of flowing crystalline water. 

Karl reached up to scratch an itch at his nose to find that it was covered by a mask. _How strange._ He dragged his fingernail over the itch and replaced the mask. He might as well play along with this. 

His feet took him to the imposing door, surprisingly already open, inviting Karl to poke his head inside. 

“Hello?” He called out.

A man dressed in formal wear and the strangest looking pig mask approached from the hallway, his visible mouth turned down in a confused frown, “Um, hello. Who is this?”

Karl entered the room the rest of the way, “Um...I’m just-I’m just in the area, why? Who are you?”

The man introduced himself as Sir Billiam III, the owner of the mansion. He declared that he was hosting a masquerade party for him and his companions, the elite of society who gathered to laugh at the expense of others and to amuse themselves in a night of drink and dance. 

When asked his name, he was surprised to hear himself say “Carl.” He knew that it wasn’t himself who answered, but the other Carl inside him. How strange the Inbetween would choose someone with his same name. How strange that he could already feel the other person’s consciousness mingling with his own. 

Billiam walked Karl around the mansion, braggadocious in his showcasing of the expansive rooms, the richly designed decorations, the illuminated books that lined shelf after shelf in his multiple libraries. Karl felt a twinge of discomfort at Billiam’s jokes at the expense of the butler, forbidden to speak, though he could feel Carl laughing along and agreeing. 

Other people began entering the manor, Billiam jovial and quick to introduce them to Carl. There was the businessman from London, Oliver, and the Lord Sebastian. They were every bit as affluent as Sir Billiam, and seemed keenly interested in Carl and how someone they had not met before gained enough influence and wealth to be allowed into such an exclusive masquerade. Karl shrugged off the questions, unsure himself of how Carl lived his life. 

He could see another person approaching from a distance, and Karl was ready to dismiss him as yet another one of Sir Billiam’s awful friends with too much money and not enough heart. That is, until the man stepped closer and Karl could make out the side of his face that wasn’t covered by the phantom mask. Waved black hair, stylized to perfection, rested on his shoulders. Eyes the deepest shade of lapis, so bright that Karl could see them even from a distance. A hint of stubble dusting his jaw, drawing attention to how sharp and defined it was. And the shirt, the front ties half undone with purposeful nonchalance. It was clear the man knew he was attractive. Karl hated him for his pretentiousness. Carl was intrigued. 

Sir Billiam lit up at the sight of the newcomer, meeting him in the hallway and clasping forearms with him in greeting. “Ah, James! It’s good to see you again, my old friend. How’s the business?”

It took a moment for James to answer, seemingly overwhelmed by the attention being thrown in his direction. “....It--”

“How’s the wife?” Billiam cut him off.

“Divorced.”

“How’s the family?”

“Gone.”

Sir Billiam sighed, clearly frustrated with his friend’s one word responses and negative tone, which brought down the mood of everyone standing there in the hall. “...It’s hard to talk to you… It’s very difficult to talk to you, James.”

“Do you have alcohol?” James questioned, looking around the room. “Where’s your butler?”

It was clear the butler had been listening in as he quickly dashed down the stairs, a glass of wine in hand. He passed it to James and scurried away just as quickly as he had appeared. Billiam commented on how good the butler was at making himself scarce, how he was pleased he did not have to look at the servant too much. Everyone laughed, even Carl. Karl felt himself wince on the inside, wanting to say something on behalf of the butler, but didn’t want to say anything contrary to what Carl would.

The night became an increasingly more pleasant experience for Karl as the alcohol was poured in the main hall. He found himself enjoying the company of the guests there, though the arrival of “Drew” confused him to no end. Liaria was a delight among them all, her smile and her laugh a true welcome to the party. Still, Carl found himself drawn to James, leaning against him as he giggled at some joke being made. The wine made him bold, made him more open to flirting with this person he didn’t know but felt innately connected to. 

They played silly children games. They sat in a circle, Carl so close to James he could feel the heat emanating from his body. It made him want to swim in a pool of that warmth. It was silly and everyone was drunk and it was _fun_. Karl hadn’t had this much fun since – he couldn’t remember when. The thought should have bothered him, but he was too lost in the excitement and the joviality that it was quickly lost to oblivion. 

They danced, too. They passed partners around, waltzing in circles with one another, never taking things too seriously. Everyone enjoyed the company, enjoyed the music the butler played from the piano, enjoyed the way their feet moved on the floor, _enjoyed_. Carl was not surprised that he danced with James the most, both of them seeking one another out whenever partners switched, hands finding familiar places as they moved together. They smiled, their bodies moving in sync. _They fit well together_ , Carl thought. The idea seemed wrong to Karl, but he couldn’t think of why. He let Carl enjoy his fun. 

\--

Carl backed up, his hands held up in an attempt to placate the slowly approaching Sir Billiam with that wicked, wicked grin plastered on his face. He nearly tripped on one of the vines that stretched the length of the hidden room. He caught his footing, looking behind him to see the butler approaching. 

“Why are the lights turning off?” he stuttered, trying to quickly memorize the layout of the ground before him so he could run at the first chance he got, even if that meant in the dark. 

“Aw… the Egg is hungry,” Billiam said, his voice in that jilted, mocking tone that made Carl’s skin crawl. He was completely engulfed in darkness, with two completely deranged people who sounded like they were approaching him. 

“W-What?” Carl stuttered, doing his best to remember exactly where the door was, stumbling and fumbling in the darkness. All he had to do was escape the darkened room, make it out to the main hall, and run into the forest. He could lose them there. 

“I’m sorry, Carl, but…” The sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed off the stone walls, ringing in Carl’s ears. With a silent whimper, he found the painting and threw it open quickly, throwing himself out of the room. He struggled to close it, another body pressing against the other side, trying to keep it open. The person on the other side was stronger than Carl, and he knew that he would not be able to hold on for long. He released the door and began sprinting, out of the library, running towards where he thought the front door was. The person behind him was quicker, they knew the layout of the house far better than Carl. 

“Get him, butler! Kill him!” Was the last thing he heard before the sword pierced through his back, sending him to the ground. 

\--

The Inbetween didn’t notice anything was wrong. It hadn’t noticed that Karl had said anything. It offered its help, leading him down hallways that he hadn’t explored, perhaps showing off the extravagance of the castle more than being of actual assistance. But Karl couldn’t be sure. He was never sure with the Inbetween. Just left him clues that it said would help him figure out how to stop his memory loss _and_ help him save all those he cared about back home. 

As Karl stumbled through the portal, he let out a soft sigh at the sight before him. James, alive and breathing, waiting for him. He approached with hesitant feet, hand reaching up to brush against the stubble on his jaw. “James? How...how?” He asked, incredulous. 

“Karl…” James seemed confused, perhaps even a little worried, as his hand moved to grab Karl’s wrist, holding it gently against his face. “Karl, it’s me. Sapnap.”

At the sound of his name, the floor seemed to drop out from underneath him. He blinked several times, in an attempt to orient himself. Sapnap. _Sapnap_. He was back home. With Sapnap. Suddenly, Karl felt so incredibly exhausted and practically fell into his fiancé, who quickly grabbed him and held him with ease. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m here. Talk to me, babe. Tell me everything, yeah?”

Sapnap guided them into the library, having Karl sit against the wall as he wrote down everything he could remember. _He makes it easy,_ Karl thought. _Remembering things_. Now that he had someone to question him, make him remember things that he would have forgotten on his own, it was easier. And Sapnap made him laugh. He teased Karl about his flirtations with James and the thought of Karl actually _waltzing_. It felt good. It felt real. 

They thought things were getting better when Sapnap began taking notes.

And then the dreams began. 

\--

Karl had curled himself into the warm body beside him, holding him tightly, the blankets wrapping them together. The quietness of his soul, the silent peace enveloped him and lured him deep into sleep, as it had every night. 

When his eyes opened, he was shocked to find himself sat amongst a group of men, all laughing and conversing lively with one another in a strange tongue. Karl could hear the unfamiliar sounds, but somehow he understood their meaning.. 

_Wasn’t he just asleep?_ The Inbetween had never grabbed him while he was asleep before. _This… this was new._

A boy with dirty blonde hair on the opposite end of the room raised himself up, standing on the small wooden table before him. He raised a tankard, a silly drunken grin on his face, lips wet with drink and flushed cheeks. “ _Mon freres_! Tomorrow,” the man hiccuped, “tomorrow the king’s men come. And we’re gonna give them one hell of a fuckin’ fight! But– but tonight, we celebrate! Here’s to you, here’s to me, and here’s to the revolution!” The man threw his head back and drowned the rest of his drink, quickly running the back of his hand across his lips to wipe away the excess drink. Everyone around Karl cheered, likewise drinking the alcohol before him. Karl raised his own drink to his lips, happy to be part of the energy. 

A man approached him, one who had been sitting at the table with the other who had given the toast, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Despite all the differences in appearance – the hair too light, the skin too pale – the piercing blue eyes gave away everything. _Sapnap_. He leaned in close, and Karl could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Pierre,” he whispered, “I have a secret.”

Karl laughed, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

The man giggled, resting his head on Karl’s shoulder, “I can’t tell you now! It’s a secret!” He smiled up at Karl, and Karl smiled back down at him. 

“Well, when can you tell me, then?”

“Come with me, come with me.” The man stood up far too quickly, almost losing his balance as his head adjusted to the sudden movement. Pierre rose with him, steadying the man by holding on to his shoulders. The skin beneath his hands was warm, comforting. The man took hold of those hands and pulled Karl along with him, the two heading towards the stairs leading upward. 

“Michel, where are you heading to now? I just ordered another round!” A voice called out. The blonde from earlier.

“I’m busy, Gérard! Drink it for me!” Michel called back. Gérard responded by lifting his cup and giving a slight nod towards the two of them, who then continued up the stairs. 

Michel pulled them into a large room of several beds, all pressed close to one another. It was a mess, if Karl was honest – sheets curled into balls, dirty clothes strung across the floor and across mattresses. 

“Okay, okay, okay, what did you need to tell me that’s so secret?” Pierre said, snark dripping from his voice. 

“Listen, listen,” Michel dragged the two to sit down facing one another on adjacent beds. “Listen.”

“I _am_ listening.”

“Gérard gave me a job,” Michel’s voice dropped low and quiet as if someone was in the room with them, listening in, even though they both knew that everyone else was downstairs, too drunk and too happy to care. He licked his lips before repeating, “Gérard gave me a job. I’m gonna go to the army’s encampment, yeah? Tonight. I’m gonna go and I’m gonna go blow it up with their own gunpowder.” 

“Michel…” Karl breathed out, the potential danger permeating through all the drunken stupor. “Michel, you can’t.”

“No, no, don’t you worry. They won’t even know that I’m there, trust me. I’ll sneak in, light a few fuses, and be out before they realize anything’s wrong. Don’t fret, _mon amour_ ,” Michel said, hand reaching up to cup Karl’s cheek in reverence. He pressed their foreheads together, his warm breath mingling with Karl’s. This was the closest any of their meetings had ever been. Never, in any of his travels, was Sapnap ever with him, not like they really were. But, here, they were. And it felt like coming home. _Perhaps he was home._

_No._

_No, he wasn’t._

_This isn’t home._

_He’s traveling._

Karl backed away from the quiet embrace, “Let me come with you.”

“ _Non_ ,” Michel shook his head. “More people, more of a chance of being spotted. I’ll leave once everyone has gone to sleep, including you, and I’ll be back when you wake.”

“Promise?” Karl breathed out, the thought of being separated from the man before him a wrench in his chest that seemed to contain too much weight for the time he knew the man. _Was this Pierre’s heart aching? Was this Karl’s? Was there a difference?_

“Of course I do,” he placed his lips gently against Pierre’s forehead before standing, holding his hand out for Karl to take. “Let’s go and celebrate a little longer.”

Karl took his hand. 

That evening, after everyone had stumbled up the stairs, drunk to the point of exhaustion, Michel held on to Pierre. They stayed together in the dark like that, minds empty and hearts full, until Michel shifted to rise from the bed. Karl grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the embrace. Michel responded by pressing his lips against Karl’s. It was soft. It was light. It was sunshine melted on his mouth. He tried to fall into that sun, but the man pulled back, eyes still closed as if holding on to the kiss as a token, as a final memory to hold on to. 

_Oh._

_He doesn’t think he’s coming back._

Despite the confidence Michel professed earlier, the feeling of doubt was shared between them. The thought made Karl’s face heat up, a stinging in his eyes and in the bridge of his nose. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. They raced through his body in a second, his body catching up to all the feelings Pierre had harbored. It had climbed from a steam to a boil inside him, the sudden reality of it all hitting him like a tsunami. 

“Come back,” Karl whispered. Pierre whispered in his mind, _to me_. 

“I will.” _He won’t._

Michel rose from the bed. Pierre let him. The pull of sleep lured him back. 

The next time he awoke, he woke to the sound of gunfire and battle cries. It wasn’t the “ _Liberté, égalité, fraternité, ou la mort_!” that Pierre had known from months of rebellion, but guttural shouts of those staring death in the face. He looked around him, seeing others with the same startled expressions as the one he knew he wore. The royalists were here. In the middle of the night. And Michel hadn’t returned. 

Everyone scrambled for their things, rejecting proper dress in favor of grabbing what few guns they had, the few bullet casings they had put together. Pierre followed, quickly grabbing a pistol that only had three rounds still loaded. It would have to be enough for now. 

He descended the stairs to chaos. The royalists hadn’t made it to the inn yet, though the flashes and sparks from the guns on the street lit up so bright that they illuminated the walls within, casting ghostly shadows across the faces of the young revolutionaries. 

“ _Pour la révolution_ ,” a voice said from beside him, quiet, and Pierre looked over, startled at the sudden presence. The blond man – Gérard. 

“You…,” Pierre began, not knowing what to say. “Where’s Michel?”

“He never returned. Must have been caught.” His sentences were brief, devoid of emotion. He was more focused on loading the rifle in his hands than Pierre’s grief. 

“You sent him on a suicide mission and you can’t even spare him a second thought.” Pierre was appalled at his words, at his apathy. 

“Well, if we don’t fucking start shooting these _fils de pute_ then we’ll be seeing him real soon, won’t we?” Gérard shrugged Pierre off, though Pierre could see the glint of guilt in the man’s eyes before he ran off to join the others at the makeshift barricade in the middle of the street. 

He was right, of course. The cause was more important than a single life. They had all joined knowing this fact. It didn’t make the anguish bearable. It didn’t make the fact that Michel was likely dead, or worse, easier to process. Every step Pierre took felt like he was being weighed down by a thousand tons. 

All around him, were wails of death and of pain. Cries of torture rang out as loud as the backfire of the guns. He hurried to press himself behind a dresser that had been upturned as a barrier between them and those that bowed before the king and let him trample them in the process. 

He looked over his shoulder, peeking out to see the army on the other side of the barricade reloading their rifles, far outnumbering his friends who were falling all around him. He felt the hopelessness rising in him. He had to do something, even if this would never amount to anything. 

Pierre stood, raising his gun to fire. He pulled the trigger, not even seeing where the bullet landed, everything lost in the fray. 

The bullet hit him harder than he expected. As the shot rang out, he felt that he was fainting and falling. At that moment, with eyes already shut, he felt the shock of a hand seizing him, catching him as he fell to the ground. He couldn’t even open his eyes to see who held him as his senses began to vanish, hardly allowing him time for the thought, mingled with a last memory of Michel: _He would never go home._

_\--_

Pristine white walls surrounded him. Despite the beauty, despite the light, the place seemed cold to him. Despite the other bodies like his, he felt alone. Despite their presence, he was the only life. He looked down at himself, the phantom feel of bullets piercing through his skin haunting. _He was fine_. The white of his clothes were unsoiled by blood. 

As he climbed the stairs, he saw the book waiting patiently for him. He ran a hand over the smooth brown leather and opened to see what the pages had waiting for him. Perhaps something more about the castle, about who was sending him these books, about why he was chosen, about his memories. 

_You have strayed from the path._

_You weren’t supposed to tell anyone._

_I cannot assist you any longer._

The longer Karl stared at the words, the more they began swimming in his vision. They seared themselves into his brain. The books didn’t say anything when he was at the masquerade. He thought he had won. He thought he could do this. 

_What now?_

_What did it mean that the books could no longer help?_

_Would he have to explore the vast expanse of the castle on his own? Hope to stumble across the answers to all his secrets? Without the assistance of whomever it was who seemed to know everything?_

For someone who could time travel, Karl was running out of time. 

\--

Karl awoke with a jolt. 

He wasn’t at the portal. 

Everything was dark and he was laying on his back.

His body felt like it was on fire. 

He tried to get up, finding that his body was being pulled back down by some force he couldn’t make out in the lightless space. He fumbled to the side, stumbling to the floor, his body tangled in some kind of fabric. 

“Karl?” A familiar sleepy voice called out.

He couldn’t respond. That familiar feeling of his throat closing, his entire body tingling as it began to numb and freeze up, it all came over him so quickly. He couldn’t rise from the floor. Couldn’t escape. 

Suddenly there were blankets being wrapped around him, arms encompassing his body, holding him tightly. He was guided to lay his head on a chest, a voice whispering softly in his ear in comfort. 

“I’m here,” Sapnap uttered, his voice quiet, barely reaching Karl’s ear. But it was there. And it was enough. The confidence, the strength in his voice. It calmed the lightning storm raging in his mind and in his body. Sapnap’s presence was like a fire, engulfing the panic that threatened him, burning through the worst of his fears. 

They stayed on the floor like that until Karl’s thoughts unclouded, until he could move his limbs again and his breath flowed like the rising and falling of the tides. Sapnap held him through it all, his thumbs rubbing circles on his back, spreading calming warmth wherever his fingers trailed. His lips rested on the crown of his head, pressing soft kisses, soft as the sunrise. 

“I’m sorry,” Karl whispered, once he could speak again. 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, babe. I’m here. You’re home. I’m here.”

Karl let the words wash over him, letting the words repeat themselves in his head. _Sapnap was here. He was home._

“When… when I woke up, I didn’t know where I was, I thought I was...” Karl admitted, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure Sapnap could hear him. 

“You – did you travel? In… in your sleep? Why aren’t you at the portal?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Karl’s voice picked up, getting louder as he struggled to wrap his mind around everything that was occurring. 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, man. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” Sapnap said, voice soothing to keep down the panic. “Right now, why don’t you tell me what you remember, yeah? About where you went. And then tell me everything you remember about here. I’ll remember it all, write down the notes later. I’ve got you, Jacobs.” 

Karl recounted the travel that seemed like a nightmare to him. The anticipation that he felt at the start of the revolution, the anguish at seeing his friends fall around him, the hopelessness as he crumbled himself. 

The Inbetween’s threat. 

He was asked again about what he could remember from here, from _home_. Karl told Sapnap about their little mushroom kingdom, the library it had started from, their friends and their family, the Egg that threatened to take over their own lives. The more he tried to get deeper into his memories, the further he searched back, the fuzzier things became. He had to be prompted to be reminded of L’manberg, of his and Sapnap’s first dates singing silly songs on a stage they had built with their own hands. 

The nightmares continued. The sleep traveling. He was thrust through time, every time meeting the same fate. Every time he died. Every time he watched his friends being slaughtered by some wicked force – connected to the Egg, connected to Dream. Karl couldn’t escape the horrific cycle. The Inbetween was punishing him, throwing him to the worst periods. And even worse, it no longer told him why. It gave no reasoning. It no longer left him books. Karl was left to wander the castle alone, the vast expanse of the halls and rooms pressing down on him as he searched and searched and searched. The answer was here. But would he find it in time?

Every time he came, the castle appeared in more disrepair. What once appeared as a heavenly structure, pristine and celestial in nature, became haunting and decrepit. More than once he stumbled upon crumbling roofs, decaying plants, discolored stone. He was running out of time. 

The skies in the Inbetween were no longer cerulean peppered with whisps of cream-colored clouds. Everything was gray. The clouds that appeared now were angry, ready to weep at any moment. A storm was coming and Karl had caused it. 

The panic attacks were getting worse, too. Every time he came back through, with Sapnap trying to take notes, he spiraled in his mind, pressuring himself to remember. _Just remember, Karl. Why the fuck can’t he remember? He was_ just _there._

Things were not getting better when Sapnap began taking notes.

\--

They were taking a break from building their new home, laying down on the soft, warm sand of Squid Lagoon, staring up at the sunbeams peaking through the trees above them when Karl disappeared. 

He found himself at the windowsill of a stone turret, looking down at a world on fire. Hundreds of people below him screaming – some in rage, some in agony. A war. The crash of boulders hurled from trebuchets shook the very foundations beneath his feet as they slammed into the walls of the castle. Karl’s mind struggled to catch up with chaos ravaging this new world around him.

His attention was ripped away from the hellscape before him as the wooden door behind him was thrown open. Someone in full plate armor entered the room, removing the iron bastinet from their head with an exaggerated exhale. White hair plastered to her forehead, face covered with grime, yet Karl could recognize his friend almost anywhere. _Puffy._

“Gideon! What are you still doing up here, you’ve got to get out!” His hand was suddenly grasped tightly, the cold iron of the gauntlet bracing against the bare skin of his wrist. 

“Bu– I – ” Karl had no choice but to follow as he was dragged quickly through lantern-dim corridors, his feet stumbling to keep up with the pace the woman in front of him kept. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Gideon? You’re too valuable to stay in the castle!” She shouted, her voice more concerned than angry. She never stopped moving, never looked back to Karl as she weaved their way down through spiraled stone staircases, their feet echoing through the chambers.

Karl didn’t know how to answer, not knowing anything about where and when he had been sent, nor why the Inbetween had sent him. He didn’t even have enough information to know who Gideon was, the history of the man behind the body he had been sent into had been lost to time. 

“I mean– ” Karl started before he nearly rammed himself into the chest of the woman in front of him, who had stopped abruptly and whirled around to face him.

“You weren’t thinking, Gideon. I know you’ve got your head out in the clouds, and you know I love that about you, kiddo, but by god, this is important. I’ve already lost one duckling, I can’t lose you too,” she sighed, mouth pursing tight to keep the tears away from her eyes. 

“You’re right. I must have not been thinking. Let’s get out of here.”

“Gideon… You know I can’t come with you. I’ll take you to the edge of the tunnels, but then you’ve got to get out on your own. I can’t abandon Henry or Charles now, not when they need me. I’m a knight and I have a duty.” 

“Oh,” Karl breathed out, the thought of being left alone sent his heart racing. He hurt for Gideon, who was watching his friend leave him, back into the fray where he knew not everyone was going to make it out.

Once again grabbing his hand, though far less aggressively, she brought Karl down to tunnels: dark, wet, abandoned. “I leave you here. You know where to go.” Karl had no idea where to go. But, something inside him did. Gideon’s memories mingling and intertwining with his own in a discordant symphony. 

“When…” Karl licked his lips in an attempt to bring life to the dryness, “When will I see you all again?”

“Soon, my friend. We will come to you when things are over and we’re safe from this Egg and it’s army.” Of course. The Egg. The Egg had made its way here too. Everything had to come back to the Egg. 

“Okay. Okay, I trust you.”

A laugh behind them startled the two from what was likely their last goodbye. They jumped at the sound, attempting to find the source. 

It was a man, dressed similarly to Puffy in iron armor. But his armor had been painted black, making it difficult to see the size and shape of him in the dim light. Except for the red, outlining his bastinet, the red of the flame embroidered into his tunic, the red of blood splattering his sword, already unsheathed. 

“Ser Maude! Gideon! What a pleasant surprise!” The voice behind the helmet spoke, far too cheery and lighthearted for the aura emanating off him. Gideon knew the voice, a friend long since corrupted. Karl knew the voice too, one he wished he never would hear connected to the Egg. 

He looked to the woman beside him, Maude, who slowly brought her arm in front of Karl, shifting herself in front of him in order to create a barrier between him and the black knight before them. 

“William.”

“Sorry to interrupt! I really feel like quite the ass!” He laughed again, the mirth in behind it so sinister it made the back of Karl’s neck tingle as every hair stood on end. 

“I really didn’t know anyone would be down here! And I thought I was being sneaky! Ah, well. I suppose this can end one of two ways for you, and I’d hate for it to be the worse of the two options.”

Karl swallowed, mentally feeling around for anything he could fight back with. A hidden dagger, a potion of harming strapped to his belt, _anything_. There was nothing. He was useless. He didn’t even have any armor, simply his dyed tunic and cape. 

“We won’t surrender to you or your ridiculous Egg, William. You’ve corrupted too much and we won’t let this stand. Your reign of terror has gone on for too long.” Maude brandished her own sword, holding it out in warning to the knight standing opposite them. 

“I really, really wish it didn’t come to this, Maude. We used to be so close. All you have to do is give in to the Egg. It’s that easy. You and Gideon both could be so happy with the Egg!” William stepped closer, causing Maude to retreat, guiding Karl back with her, still protecting him with her body. 

“That won’t happen. The destruction you’ve reigned on us all will stop – now.” Maude’s voice never betrayed her, strong and confident. 

William simply sighed heavily, removing his helmet from his head, in a show of respect for Maude, who had set hers aside long ago. Black hair spilled from the bastinet, curling around his shoulders, that familiar white band tied hastily in an attempt to keep that hair from his face. A sneer on familiar lips, ones Karl had kissed smiles into a thousand times. Eyes that once were as bright and warm as home now burned like hellfire, the irises the color of crimson.

Something in the back of Gideon’s brain seemed to yell at him, an itch that he couldn’t quite scratch. But it terrified him, telling him that somehow he knew what was going to happen. Knew that he and Maude weren’t going to make it out of this alive. 

Gideon racked his brain for any of the spells he could remember, something useful in a fight. It wasn’t his specialty. He hadn’t been trained as a combat magician, using his talents instead for things like alchemy and astrology. Now, he prayed to anyone who was listening to grant him the gift of time travel so he could go back and learn something, anything, to help him. To help Maude. 

“Well, I guess you leave me no choice, Maude. I am sorry that it had to come to this,” William rolled his head in a circle, his neck cracking as he readied himself. Maude adjusted the grip of the sword in her grasp. 

“Gideon, I need you to run. Please don’t look back,” she whispered, voice cracking on the last words. Maude feared, not for himself, but for his friend. 

Gideon nodded, preparing himself to turn and flee. He knew that if the Egg got to him, it would be over for everyone. They needed Gideon’s powers to fix this, fix the world that was etched in the color of fire, the color of war, the color of blood. 

The sound of his feet pounding on the cobblestone mingled with the clash of blades as Gideon ran back into the castle. There were other tunnels. Other secret escapes that he could use. He thought of every single one, every nook and cranny he could use to get to the designated hideout. Maude would win. She would defeat William, and they would win the war, and everyone would meet up at the small house, hidden deep into the hills, concealed from view. 

Lost in his desperate thoughts of escape, Gideon nearly tripped over himself, startled at the sudden appearance at the end of the tunnel. William stood before him, the dark red blood splattered on his armor glinting in the light of the torch. Fresh. 

Gideon understood. He accepted it all with defeat. Breath stolen from him, refusing to enter his lungs again. Eyes that burned like hot coals. Feet that refused to move further. If he turned around again to run back down the tunnel, William would catch up again. He knew the tunnels just as the rest of them did. And… And he didn’t want to face the sight that he surely would if he turned around. Maude. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about her. But hey! The Egg can take that pain away! The Egg can make it all better, Gideon. Just come with me!” 

“No,” was all he said. Gideon would not provoke his former friend with pleas to understand what he had done was wrong, would not swear that he would take down the Egg. He knew what fate awaited him. And now he welcomed that fate. It was selfish of him. The world needed him. But as he thought of his friend laying dead some distance behind him, the others likely being slaughtered above them, he couldn’t care less.

William approached, sword glistening with that violent red drawn from Maude’s body. Gideon made no attempt to move, simply closing his eyes, thinking of the times before the Egg, when the world knew peace.

When his eyes opened, Karl was in the Inbetween. Rather, what was left of the Inbetween. The ceiling had collapsed around him, leaving him in the open, the air smelling of the coming storm. The wind whipped at his skin, the cold burning him. He was alone. The ghostly figures – gone. _God, what had he done?_

He wasn’t even given time to search the grounds, being sucked back through to the portal. As he was flung back, he came face to face with William. _How had he followed him here?_ He places his hands up in a defense. He couldn’t back up, behind him the portal. He was trapped. 

“William… Please…” Gideon pleaded. He was going to kill him again. Over and over. The cycle never ending. 

“I– William? Karl, what’s going on?” He laughed, though he appeared uncomfortable and confused. 

“N-no. Don’t… don’t play with me, William. Please, please just don’t kill me. I-I’m begging, please.” Tears sprang in his eyes as he struggled to understand why William was playing with him like this, toying with him as if he was a doe and William on a hunt. 

“Kill you? Babe, what the fuck are you on?” William tried to approach, one hand outstretched as if reaching for Gideon. He stepped back, shoulder blade hitting the edge of the portal. Fear coursed through every pore; adrenaline flooded his veins. 

“Babe?” He repeated, William’s eyes softening in concern. If Gideon didn’t know better, didn’t know the things he had done, he would have thought it was all genuine. But he did know better. 

“Stop calling me that!” Gideon cried, sliding down the edge of the portal, pulling himself into as small a target as possible. “Please,” he pleaded, voice soft as the tears overtook him. “Please.”

“Karl, Karl, look at me. Karl, it’s me. It’s Sapnap.” He heard footsteps approach and he knew that William knelt before him. A hand reached out and touched his knee gingerly, the heat of his skin almost burning. Gideon flinched at the feeling, trying to pull away further. 

“Karl, I know no Karl! Stop calling me that,” Gideon breathed shakily, anxiety and confusion overtaking the initial fear. _What the hell was going on?_

Pain flickered over William’s features. Confusion, hurt, defeat. “Karl, please… Come back to me…” Not moving the hand from his knee, he brought the other up slowly as if reaching for Gideon’s face. The instant that he flinched, though, the hand retreated. 

“Please… just… do you – do you remember that time when it was just me, you, and Punz and-and we built the Eiffel Tower? Yeah? And-and we worked so hard on it? And it was just the three of us? Do you remember?” His voice cracked as he choked on his words, swallowing down a lump in his throat. 

Gideon stared at him, the stark contrast between the William he knew and the William before him shaking every part of him. The pain in his eyes was real. He recognized that pain. “I-I… Who are you?”

“It’s me, babe, it’s me. Sapnap. Yeah? And, and… and remember that time we built this library? Yeah? Me, and you, and George? Growing those mushroom trees in the barn and just farming those for hours and hours? We had so much fun, Karl. We,” Sapnap paused, tears spilling hot down his heated cheeks. He held back full sobs, every part of him aching, yearning. “We built those stupid offcentered beams and had to have Bad come and help us? But it-it didn’t matter, because we were having fun, yeah?”

Gideon swallowed hard, watching the man before him unravel and fall apart. This wasn’t William. Couldn’t be. But he didn’t know this man. He wanted to comfort him, but he couldn’t. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“And, and you told me you would always remember that day because it was ours, our home. This is our home, Jacobs. Come home,” his voice broken, no more than a whisper, eyes hot and pleading. 

Home. Something about the word _home_. There was something in him that triggered and Karl was falling, crashing, coming _home_. He felt himself being tugged back to himself, his body and his mind connecting once more. He was here. Curled into himself. Staring into the eyes of the man he called his home. Eyes that were exhausted. Eyes that were broken and weeping. 

“Sapnap?” Karl held his hand out, reaching out slowly. Sapnap stared back with wide eyes as Karl brushed away a hot tear from his cheek. “I’m home.”

Sapnap laughed, a broken sound as it mingled with his sobs, pulling Karl close until their foreheads were pressed together. “You’re home,” he whispered. “You’re home.” 

The past few minutes washed over Karl all at once as he realized what had happened. His own face grew wet as he began to cry: overwhelmed, ashamed, guilty. He was losing control. He was losing himself. He was losing home. 

The two lovers cried. They held each other and they cried. They wept for the fear the other felt, for the uncertainty of the future, for their home that was being burnt.

\-- 

They took notes. They tried everything they could think of to change the situation. It would never get better.

Karl knew that he never got to choose when he traveled. But he had no choice but to try. He had to do this. He had to figure out how the hell to stop this. He was losing himself. He couldn’t keep Sapnap in that pain any longer. He wanted to be better for Sapnap. He had to save Sapnap. 

Karl waited until his lover had left for the prison. He was going to visit Dream again. Karl had kissed him sweet, told him to stay strong and stay safe, and watched him leave for the Vault. And then he entered the library. Climbed the secret ladder down to the depths. 

He knelt before the portal, hand against the obsidian, calling out to the Inbetween with his mind. _Please. Please I have to do something. Give me one last chance. I have to figure out how to stop this._

 _One last chance,_ it whispered back. 

And then Karl was falling.

When he came to, he was standing before a man much taller than him dressed in a pure white toga, the fabric clasped together at his shoulder with a golden emblem. Long, curled blond hair fell down to his shoulders. Karl had never met this man before but there was something about the dimple in his chin and the grey of his eyes that made him think of a boy he knew back home. _What was that boy’s name again?_

“Theseus!” The man in front of him whirled around at the sound of a voice behind him. Karl tilted his head in the same direction to find the source of the voice. A deeply scarred man with long pink hair pulled back into a wispy braid and a golden circlet on his head strode toward the two of them. When he approached, he gave Karl an acknowledging nod, “Kairos.” 

Kairos. Here, _now_ , he was Kairos. Karl gave a large grin in return, making sure that the man knew that he was happy to see him without revealing the fact that he had _no idea_ who he was. 

Theseus scoffed and rolled his eyes at the pink-haired man, “What is it, Lycomedes?”

“If you’re done here, we have important matters to get to.” Karl could tell that Lycomedes was implying that he was not included in these important matters. He could tell from their clothing that the two before him were clearly of high class standing, likely some form of royalty if the golden circlet on Lycomedes and the golden clasp on Theseus were anything to go by. 

Theseus rolled his eyes, indicating both his disdain for propriety and also his familiarity with the two of them. 

“Yeah, well, we’ve better make this quick, ‘cause I’ve got shit I want to do,” he huffed even as he was beginning to follow Lycomedes away, leaving Kairos on his own. The thought of being alone _wherever_ he was caused him to tense in anxiety. He didn’t know anything about who he was or what he was supposed to be doing. 

His feet thought for him, pulling him to a pavilion in the center of the larger cluster of buildings he was in. Despite the centrality of its position, Karl was alone. It was peaceful. A ripe olive tree spread its branches across the open space, providing needed shade from the harsh sun that brought an immense heat. He approached the tree, hand smoothing over the rough bark before reaching up and plucking an olive. As he bit down on the small fruit, Karl hummed in bliss. This was his favorite thing to do when he had free time.

_Wait. Karl had never done this before. What was he thinking?_

He spat the pit down on the ground, shoving it around with the toe of his sandal. He was already beginning to slip even though he had just arrived. He had better figure out what the hell was wrong, get killed, and do it fast. 

With the newfound purpose, he retreated from the pavilion, hoping to run into someone, anyone, who would be able to fill him in on everything that he _should_ know with a couple of unassuming questions. 

He found that person in the form of an adonis. He had found him swinging a bronze sword at a dummy made of straw, sweat glistening on tanned skin under the hot Grecian sun. Yet, despite the heat, the man wore what appeared to be a lion skin over his shoulders, the head of the lion creating a hood, appearing almost as if the lion’s jaws would snap around the man’s head at any moment. Karl knew in an instant that this man was strength and power embodied. Kairos could do nothing but swallow hard at the sight before him. 

Kairos cleared his throat, bringing the man out of his intense focus, his bright eyes widening in surprise. “Oh,” was all he said. 

“Hi there, uh… how goes the training?” Kairos gestured to the mutilated clumps of straw that barely stood in any semblance of a human. 

The man smiled back, warmer than the sun. He brought down the head of the lion to sit on the back of his shoulders, revealing long, dark hair, held back by a white band circling his forehead. 

“I don’t think he’ll be much use anymore, my apologies. Did you want a swing at it?” The man held out his word, hilt toward Kairos. 

He immediately shook his head. “No, not my style. I’m more of a diplomat, you could say.”

“Ah, I’ve never been one for words, I have to say.” The man laughed and Kairos felt like he was melting. The honeyed sound reached deep into his soul and touched every part of him, filling him completely. 

Kairos had to know who this man was. He reached out his arm in greeting, and it was quickly grasped. _God, he was strong._ Even in a gentle shake, he could feel the power flowing through those hands, the heat of their skin touching. “Kairos.”

“Hercules.” _Ah. So that explained it_. Kairos had heard that Theseus and Lycomedes had recruited an important ally in the pursuit to reclaim Athens. He just didn’t know that it would be – well, he didn’t expect it to be Hercules. The lion’s head made more sense now. 

“I suppose I should say thank you for helping King Theseus,” Kairos smiled politely, but secretly hoped that his heart wasn’t betraying him. He was immediately attracted to the man. He wanted to know more about him. Everything about him. And not just because he made it a point to know everything. 

“It’s tragic, what happened. Together, we’ll see he gets put back on the throne. I’m just glad I can be of assistance.” Hercules grinned and in the back of his mind, Kairos thought that he’d seen that grin before. Not possible, of course, but there was something so familiar. 

His eyes, too. Despite his strength and his power, his eyes spoke of softness. There was a comforting warmth that he thought he could just fall into. It was like the warmth of home after being away for too long. 

Karl pulled back for a moment, quickly realizing that something was wrong. He said a brief goodbye to Hercules, feeling a brief stab of guilt at the man’s expression left confused by the swift and cold retreat. _He’s here for a reason. He’s here to find… something. Something important. He has to find it so he can go back to… to…_

The thought leaves him before he can finish thinking it. 

He spent his days with Theseus and Hercules, laughing with them while they trained together as he read his books. They teased him for his lanky arms, though Kairos protested that he’d gotten this far without violence. It became a routine. Even Lycomedes stopped by sometimes, trying to give Theseus combat tips, though that always ended in Theseus becoming frustrated and demanding to duel Lycomedes. Which always ended in him losing and being embarrassed for the rest of the day. 

Kairos sat beneath the olive tree, chewing on its green fruit. Hercules saw him and approached, taking a seat beside him. They were alone and it was nice. Despite the beautiful sun raining down on them, it was the warmth from Hercules that Kairos felt the most, that he wanted to fall into. He leaned into that sunshine radiating from Hercules’ soul, his smile, his eyes. The welcoming fire. 

_It felt like home._

_He was home._

_\--_

Sapnap waits.

He sits in front of the portal and he waits. 

Days pass and he waits. 

He can feel himself becoming weak and he waits. 

He hears people searching for him and Karl and he waits. 

He feels a hand being placed on his shoulder as he’s found. 

“Sapnap?” Quackity asks, voice concerned as Sapnap stares straight ahead at the portal, waiting. 

“Sapnap, let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

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> holy shit this took so fucking long -- i started writing this after mizu.  
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